I am sixty years old. “In the middle of
the road of my life I awoke in the dark wood where the true way was wholly
lost”, to quote the poet. Health prevailing.
I must admit this last year I’ve
experienced something I’ve not known before. No, no one could forget such an experience. I’ve known melancholy,
sadness for loss. But this sadness is a totally new experience. The sense of
not knowing what to live for. What’s ahead.
It happened a week ago. Tears came to
me. Whilst I was riding my bike, on my way home. It was a hot day in June. One
girl on a scooter passed me, then another. Two girls on a scooter, later on.
These are images dear to my heart.
Independent, graceful, canty. All qualities I lack. They know where they
are going. Look at their stature, absorbed
in thought, how they sit, backs straight, their knees almost touching, their hair blowing in
the wind.
[Four stages of a Dream : Behold Appropriate Transform Escape]
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